Candid
by geng
Summary: Ginny Weasley's formative years seemed bright, a flourish of paint on a canvas, of boys, and sports, and living. Her story was a tale of truth, a tale of life. She was a bright, candid photograph; her past would never hold that same light, but it needn't. She was good. Things were good for Ginny Weasley.


**Candid**

A tale of truth, a tale of life.

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**Things that should be said::**

**-Music will be featured as though it were played by the real artists is going to be featured WITHOUT regard for the fact that this story takes place in 1997, as I was born in '98 and know virtually nothing about nineties music except for things I stumble upon.**

**-Ginny is going to behave older than 14 turning 15 because I just did that same age change and lmao I (and Ginny) couldn't give any less of a shit about your age-roles. She's a rebellious bitch.**

**-In this story, I, as a writer, am going to _candid_ly (hahhahahah) state that Ginny wrote songs that she did NOT IN ANY WAY AT ALL write and that I did NOT IN ANY WAY AT ALL write. The concepts behind this story started months ago and I've just been compiling songs and ways I could tie them into a plot. Each chapter will end with the mentions of the songs (and sometimes the varying versions of songs) that were used (or even implied) in the making of that chapter.**

**-I DON"T KNOW JACK SHIT ABOUT MUSIC I LITERALLY HEARD THE SONG "COSMIC LOVE" BY FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE WHEN I WAS LIKE 11 AND READING THE DEATHLY HALLOWS AND I THOUGHT IT WAS A SUPER GINNY-ISH SONG AND THIS IDEA WAS JUST ME TRYING TO FIGURE HOW SHE WOULD BE ABLE TO SING IT WITHOUT ME HAVING TO COME UP WITH STUPID OCs TO BE HER BAND MEMBERS OR EVEN WORSE, ME HAVING TO TURN HOGWARTS STUDENTS INTO SHITTILY PLANNED BAND MEMBERS.**

**-Ginny is my fucking queen if you haven't noticed**

**-I don't want this to be really AU. Its the same timeline and whatever just with some embellishments and such.**

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**One** - Disclosure

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Harry woke up and made the only decision he ever made at this time of the morning: to ignore. To ignore the dreams and the insomnia and the feeling that everything was going to hell.

Ignorance was easy, and he had developed quite the routine.

Step one: swing legs over side of the bed

Step two: remember where you are

Step three: remember that your best friend is asleep next to you and will likely get pissy if you wake him up.

Step four: tiptoe to the door; make yourself the source of the least amount of noise possible.

Step five: make your way down stairs

Step six: pour a gla—

_What's was__** that**__?_

"_We're so close..._

_ to something better left unknown_

_We're so close..._

_ to something better left unknown,_

_I can feel it in my bones..."_

A voice was crooning, from somewhere in the sitting room, and Harry's drowsy mind caught up, processing what he was hearing. There was a piano playing, and he knew from his years of staying at the Burrow over the summer that the only piano-or instrument of any kind, for that matter- could be found in that sitting room.

_"Gimme sympathy,_

_After all of this is gone_

_Who'd you rather be?_

_The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?_

_Oh, seriously_

_You're gonna make mistakes, you're young_

_Come on, baby, play me somethin'_

_Like, "Here Comes the Sun""_

Gathering some courage wasn't too difficult a task this early, and Harry wasn't exactly one to wait for it to gather itself. Poking his head out from behind the partition between the dining the sitting room, he could just barely make out the faint glow of long, messy ginger locks.

The dim light of the room developed a sudden sharpness, as Harry realized who it was that was sharing this song.

_"Don't go, stay with the all-unknown_

_Stay away from the hooks_

_All the chances we took_

_We're so close to something better left un..."_

She trailed off, almost into a hum, until she stood up swiftly but quietly, in a way that, as Harry had come to understand, was something only she could do. She whipped around and pointed her wand directly at Harry.

She looked fragile, he saw. She looked tired.

"Agrippa, I thought you were Ron..." she put away her wand and sat back down, still facing Harry, "or worse, one of the twins."

"I... I didn't know you could sing like that." He blurted out before he could think any better of it.

She smiled down at her socks and might have blushed, though he couldn't be sure. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

They were still standing awkwardly, quite a few feet away from each other, almost whispering in the dark. At her apology, he rushed forward. "No, no." Becoming aware of the fact that they were now in much closer proximity, as well as the fact that her eyebrows had shot up at his movement, he stumbled to explain his actions- his awkwardness. "I mean- what I mean is..." He bit his lip. "I manage to sleep poorly without any outside help, funnily enough."

His smile was shy. Hers was less so, but it should be noted that the circumstances and setting were timid, and this timidity had proven to be infectious.

They started at the same time, Ginny rising to her feet, Harry wringing his hands.

"You have a beautiful voice-"

"-You still have nightmares, don't you?"

The silence was rougher this time. More awkward, more raw. Neither of them knew what to do.

A moment passed. Harry's state of ignorant bliss wasn't punctured.

"Thank you, Harry."

"It's true." A pause. "How come I've never heard about," he gestures around the room, "this?"

"It's-" she slowly looked around, a bit panicked, taking in the room, "it's... mine, my-"

Harry's stomach sank. He felt terrible. "Oh Merlin, Ginny, I'm so sorry."

She gifted him a smile in return. "S'okay." She sat back down, feeling a bit bolder. "Would you like to hear something else?"

He had to restrain himself from jumping forward. She motioned for him to sit next to her. "I didn't write this one, but it's been a favorite of mine ever since my discovery of muggle music. Funnily enough, it's by a man named Billy, so I guess I should mention that it's not about my brother."

"You _wrote_ that last one?" He stared at her. She stared at the keys in front of her. So low he wasn't entirely sure she heard him, as she started to play the tune, he stated that she was brilliant. More of an observation than a compliment.

_"It's nine o'clock on a Saturday_

_The regular crowd shuffles in_

_There's an old man sitting next to me_

_Making love to his tonic and gin_

_He says, "Son can you play me a memory_

_I'm not really sure how it goes_

_But it's sad and it's sweet_

_And I knew it complete_

_When I wore a younger man's clothes"_

_Sing us a song you're the piano man_

_Sing us a song tonight_

_Well we're all in the mood for a melody_

_And you've got us feeling all right_

_Now John at the bar is a friend of mine_

_He gets me my drinks for free_

_And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke_

_But there's someplace that he'd rather be_

_He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me"_

_As a smile ran away from his face_

_"Well, I'm sure that I could be a movie star_

_If I could get out of this place"_

_Sing us a song you're the piano man_

_Sing us a song tonight_

_Well we're all in the mood for a melody_

_And you've got us feeling alright..._

_And the waitress is practicing politics_

_As the businessmen slowly get stoned_

_Yes they're sharing a drink they call loneliness_

_But it's better than drinking alone..."_

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SONGS REFERENCED:

**"Sympathy Song" (Ellie Goulding and Metric remix, by "isosine" on YouTube)**

**"Piano Man" Billy Joel**


End file.
